


Save A Prayer

by SmutWithPlot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Jesse McCree, Cyborg Insecurities, Lesbian Lena "Tracer" Oxton, M/M, don't get excited Lena is just a cameo really, in which Jesse is manipulative and likes it when people underestimate him and assume he's just drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutWithPlot/pseuds/SmutWithPlot
Summary: You wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance, but fear is in your soul... Some people call it a one night stand, but we can call it paradise. For a moment, strangers. A precarious place to build a relationship. // In which McCree meets Hanzo before he joins Overwatch in a crazy random happenstance.





	Save A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Non-descript Seattle/Portland-ish suburbian hell is not Jesse McCree's idea of a good place to be. Except for the LGBTQ-friendly thing, which he admittedly forgot about. He's just not used to it, still. Shout out to Eagles of Death Metal for making their cover of "Save A Prayer" (originally by Duran Duran, whom I LOVE) and inspiring tonight's addition to my addiction that is McHanzo fanfic. It's actually a really great cover, and I like even more that it lets me add Duran Duran to my bluesy-rock mix.
> 
> I write Jesse as bi, because that's how he is in my head. Flirts with anyone, but faithful to death when you actually steal his heart.

It's raining outside.

Not to say I hate the rain, but when you live out in the middle of the godforsaken desert, it's weird. One minute the wash is threatening to take a whole caravan down to the nearest reservoir, and the next it's as bone dry as if it never happened. New Mexico has dust, not dirt, and you don't get mud, you get silt and water. Warm water, that will find its way between your toes if you have on your flip-flops, or test the integrity of your boots. People in the desert can't drive in the rain. Some of the snowbirds can, but if it's winter the traffic is so god-awful you don't want to leave the house anyway. Monsoon season is gorgeous and cool until it starts raining, and then the desert as a whole finds itself a rock and stays there.

So needless to say, places like the Pacific Northwest confuse the hell out of me, as a rule. Everything is green or a dark, almost-black brown from the sheer amount of rain the soil gets. Everything is log cabins and firs and evergreens, and it feels like an alien planet to me. Even their Indians are different. All totem poles and rain dances, where I'm used to kokopelli everywhere.

Now _that_  guy gets around.

The rooms are huge, but they feel dark. Everything is dark. Dark wood, dark dirt, dark skies, just... dark. I'm used to the sun. It feels dreary. When Winston said I had the rest of the day off to 'explore the town, but bring an umbrella', I decided that I was just going to not go out. I had books what needed reading. Gun to polish. Quick-loads to refill. Hell, I could give my leathers some oiling. And then I remembered that it's hard to dry things out in rainy weather.

...Great.

Deciding I'd been disrespected enough for one day, I grabbed a coat, the cow leather kind that was light for the sun, but hardy against the wind, and I hoped it was water proof. There was my hat, at least. I know I looked strange walking down the street, spurrs and belt buckles and all. If we were just a little more East I knew there was lot of farming folk up here, but we were in the middle of coffee-and-chill suburbia. Some intel conference where we would meet up with a new operative. Genji's brother. I didn't much like the notion, on account of the whole omnic remodel he had to undergo after (and having had to do some of that nonsense myself, I felt for him), but considering we gang banger folk had a pretty rotten reputation as a rule, and even his brother was pulling for him, I was going to have to hold my tongue for a while and give him a fair shot.

I wasn't prepared to do so very efficiently, but I could try.

I passed about three coffee shops - none of them were a Starbucks, though, amusingly enough - before I found something with neons and an advertisement I recognised.

Dos Equis, you may not be my favourite, but you are faithful and widespread.

I stepped into the place, stomping the rain on their mat, and I was pleased to hear some classic rock playing. Or at least what sounded like classic rock - I didn't recognise the song. I took off my hat and gave it a good shake before I stepped in. Just to make me feel better, the barman was wearing red plaid. Probably in the lumberjack fashion, but the Dickies helped. His ass in them was nice, too. I picked a seat at the edge of the bar so I could watch him go back and forth, and keep a good view on the rest fo the bar.

"Hi there," he greeted, smiling. "What'll it be?"

I sighed, peeking behind the bar at his selection. "How about a Jack and coke. And I'd like to taste my Jack, please." I watched him make it, and he didn't add too much ice either, for which I was grateful. "Thank you kindly."

"Would you like to open a tab?"

"Please," I answered, smiling. I took a sip, and he took my card. The radio shifted over to a grungy rock cover of Duran Duran, and I sighed. _What will they think of next?_

I watched a Seahawks game on the television for a while, and ordered a second drink. It was disappointing, like a lot of things in this town, and a few locals groaned and cursed their dismay. It was quiet. But it was a Tuesday. I finished my drink, and set it aside for the barman. I checked my watch and cursed. It wasn't hardly 2130 yet.

"Good lord," I groaned, as the barman came to collect my glass. I rubbed my eyes. "I'm in the wrong town. This place is drivin' me nuts."

He laughed. "Where ya from?"

"New Mexico. Land of Enchantment," I drawled, without much enchantment. "More specifically, a godforsaken ranch near Silver City, about halfway between Alberqueue and Tucson. I promise, ye've never heard of it."

He shook his head, smiling. "You'd be right. Can I get you another drink?"

I bat my eyelashes at him. "Can ya make it neat?"

He gives me a wink and a finger gun, and I smile. _I like this guy_. I watch him make his drink, and see a gold band on the left hand. _...Bah. Just as well_. Although I realise it's been a long time since I'd had a fella... Sometimes you just had a craving. It could linger with you for months if you didn't tend to it...

It was quiet enough that you could hear the next patron come in. Bored, I watched the front door out of the corner of my eye as an Asian fellow came in. Nice features. Not what they call 'kawaii' but I more effeminite kind of handsome. Long hair tied back in a tight ponytail. Would almost think he was a girl, but the beared and moustache would correct you fast enough. He looked... maybe my age. Late 40s at oldest, rough looking early 30s. More telling than the facial features are the clothes - he had a nice black leather jacket that suggested motorcycle, but I don't think he'd want to wear his hair down like that if he was motorcycling. Also, no gloves or helmet. His jeans fit well, but had wear to the bottoms of the legs. No cut knees - kids liked to cut them on purpose for fun or style. His shoes were nice, too. He wore no rings, or jewelry. But that shirt looked really soft.

His eyes darted about as he studied the establishment, gauging everyone he saw. When he looked my way, I glanced up and our eyes locked. I smirked, and nodded to him, raising a glass. His eyes narrowed, not trusting my attention, and continued his sweep. He picked a corner table that had a broad view of the mostly-empty bar and sat with his back to it. I sipped my drink, watching him in the reflection of the bar, and he pursed his lips at a beer list. An idle hand reached back to twist his hair. He pulled a pin out of his pocket and fastened it into a bun. I watched the barman come over to ask his order, effectively blocking my view. I huffed to myself, and turned to watch properly, where his ass wasn't in my way. He made an order, and my eyes tracked the barman as he fetched a food menu from behind the bar and brought it to him.

I asked myself how many drinks I'd had so far, because part of me really wanted to go over there and bother him.

When the barman came back to check on me, I smiled. "Pretty damned quiet around here."

He laughed. "Yeah, summers here aren't much to talk about. Kids are out of town for break, most people head up to Seattle for their entertainment... Just locals here."

"Hmm," I hummed. I nodded over to the new guy. "So weird for me to see one of those," I lied. "Where I'm from it's all red-faced cowboys like me, Indians and Mexicans. Bit of a novelty for me." I was less shy when I looked his way.

His posture shifted like he watching me out of the corner of his eye and saw me. "He a regular too?"

"Ahh..." The barman hesitated, not sure what to do with me. Probably thinking he should cut me off soon. "Not really. New guy. Like you."

"Huh," I said. _Interesting_. "Guess you're a hotbed of interesting people tonight."

"I guess so," he shrugged. He eyed the new man, and then me. It was the anxiety of someone not wanting to have to break up a fight, but not suspicion.

I reached out my pocket and pulled out a Hamilton. "His drink is on me."

That brightened his expression. "Thank you, sir."

He made a note to himself and pocketed the $10. I snickered to myself when I remembered that up here, that was an okay thing. _Gotta love the changin' times._

"Jesse, you damn troublemaker..." I purred to myself, and I downed the drink with a soft growl. I watched openly, a very smug smile on my lips as he went back to take his order. He was kind enough to stay out of my line of sight this time, so I could watch the exchange. The other man was very tight, not giving anything away. He is business-like as he picks out what he wants for dinner, and I bite my lip as I watch the barman suggest a beer. He politely declines, only for the barman to give him a shy smile, and I read 'gentleman at the bar' on his lips as he lifts his eyes to me. The stranger's expression changes, eyes wide in something like alarm, and he follows the line of sight. He seems me, and his lips purse and his eyes narrow.

I can't help my cheeky grin. I wonder if I'm blushing, and if I am, if it's the drink or the mischief. I raise my glass to him.

His gaze softens, and he considers it, looking down at the list. I watch his jaw work as his eyes sweep the list, and he makes a choice, handing the list back. The barman is ecstatic, and gives a small bow. The other man nods sharply as well.

I snort into my drink as the barman gives me an excited thumbs up in front of his red checkered shirt, and I shake my head, laughing. I swear, he's more excited than I am. He puts the order in, and then rings up the drink. I see him give a dreamy sigh as he makes change and brings it to me, putting it on the bar.

"People like you give me hope," he says quietly.

"What? Shameless flirts?" I ask, grinning.

"No, romantics." He eyes me sideways, a coy knowing in his eye. "You know what I mean." I watch him saunter off, slapping his towel over one shoulder, and I wonder if that ring belongs to a man or a woman.

 _...It is an okay thing up here_ , I remind myself. I sip my drink and look back to my new interest in the mirror.

His reflection is looking right at me.

My eyes widen and I look back. His gaze has shifted slightly to catch my eye again, and I see his lips smear into a smug and mischievous smile.

I raise a brow, frowning at him. His eyes don't leave mine, and there's a smoulder to them that makes my blood go cold. I swallow hard, and I think he gives a tiny laugh, and his eyes break to look elsewheres.

My mouth is dry. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I pick out an ice cube to suck on.

The barman is back, and yes. He's full-on gay now. He leans in front of me, smiling with dream-filled eyes, cheek on a fist. "Sooo. You gonna go over there?"

I looked up to him, and suddenly this game's stakes just got a lot higher. I clear my throat, my right hand touching the thin sleeve of flesh-covered fabric over my left arm. "I'm thinkin' about it."

"Oh, this is so precious," he says, waving at me with a limp wrist. _If I ever get that obvious, just shoot me_ , I think to myself. _Because someone else will_. "Fresh romance! Not that you're some kid or anything, I'm sure you've done this before."

I shrug. "Once or twice." _Not lately_. "But... They don't usually take the drink."

He pouts, a big lip sticking out to me, and he pats a hand on my glove. "Oh, you poor thing. Should I tell him to come to you?"

I chuckle, and wave a hand. "No, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

"Okay..." he sing-songs. He mimes a pinky and thumb to his ear, mouthing, 'Let me know!'

I give him a thumb-up, laughing again. There's definitely a hitch to his step as goes to check on everyone else's drinks, and I grimace. Some people are louder than others. It's embarassing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I look over at him. He's shifted in his booth, removing his jacket and setting it beside him, and in doing so he's made an open space to his right, where someone could easily swoop in and join him. _If only it was on his left_ , I think to myself, and I look down at my glass. I flex my left hand, hiding under leather gloves and a 'modesty' sleeve. It didn't look too bad, but any wandering hands would find the omnic beneath it...  
I swallow hard, my heart clenching. _They usually don't take the drink_. I look back over at him, and there's a twist to his head that suggests he was watching, too, but looked away.

 _You'll never know if you don't ask, Jesse_ , I tell myself. I stand, and the barman has just slipped behind the bar again, and he looks to me with a not-quite-smothered smile and bright eyes.

"Get me a shot of somethin' real quick," I grumbled.

"Liquid courage comin' right up," he answered.

I watched him pull a bottle of whiskey for me, and poured a shot before sliding it over. "On the house."

"Yer a doll," I told him, and he _hummed_. I downed it with a growl before I grabbed my hat and did the thing before I lost my nerve.

I was halfway there when he turned to me, a small twist to his lips and a low smoulder in his eyes. He also had a half-downed drink beside his clasped hands.

I nodded, touching my fingers to the tip of my hat. "Evenin'. Mind if I join you?"

He gestures to the space he's made for me, and if his eyes are shy, his posture is rigid and professional. It almost feels like a job interview. I swallow, and take the seat. I imagine if I had a real hand, it would be warm from where he was sitting. I tilt my hat up and give him a smile, trying to not let him see how fucking terrified I am. I hold out my right hand. "Name's Jesse."

He takes it, although his eyes twitch at my gloves. "My name is Hanzo." His smile keeps twisting between bright and anxious, and I wonder if he's done this before.

"You, ah..." I move my arm to the top of the cushion behind him. It's a cheesy move, but I'm actually not doing it to be cheesy. I'm doing it cuz I'm a damn coward. "You don't seem like yer from around these parts."

His eye watches my arm, and he moves silently in a laugh. "You do not seem like you are from here either," he replies. "Cowboy."

I put on my signature lopsided, devilish grin and low purr. "You'd be right, there, sweetheart. On both accounts."

He has a really sweet smile. He's demure, yet coy. I probably don't have to tell him he's pretty, he likely knows. But I'm also pretty sure he wouldn't mind hearing it.

"So, ah... What _does_  bring you out to this... dreary, rain-soaked end of creation?" I asked.

"Business," he answered.

"Ahh..."

He shrugged. "Family business. Or, should I say... My family's business. I have been... traveling. Time to settle down again."

I nodded. "Yeah, I travel a lot too, I hear whatcher sayin'. But sometimes..." I gesture around. "You end up in places that just don't feel real friendly, ya know?"

He nods, and his eyes... They're like the grey of a summer storm, full of a dangerous power that you can't help but admire for its wild beauty...

"...You got some damn pretty eyes, you know that?"

This time I know he blushes, biting his lip. He looks away, and then back at me, and they're sparkling.

"Damn pretty," I murmur again.

He leans towards me. "You say nice things, cowboy."

I lean towards him. "Maybe. But I don't lie."

He looks away, and his eyes seem to be wrestling with himself. His hands tense in his own grip. I know the reluctance of a first time.

I clear my throat. "I swear I don't bite," I add. "Not unless you ask me to." He looks at me with alarm, eyes wide. I smile gently. "I mean it. You don't gotta be scared of me. I won't push."

To demonstrate, I take my arm back and set it on the table. He watches me, wary, and I don't like seeing those pretty storms so worried. But I see motion behind him, and the grinning barman arrives with his food.

"Here we are, folks!" He brings down a handsome burger, top off and on the side, fixin's to the side, everything to the side... Why can't people just assemble their damn burgers? Fries are even string cut, and a strange orange color... "Anything else I can get for you? Fresh drinks?"

"Ah... I'll have another as before, please," I say. I look to him, and he is looking over his meal, not sure what to say.

"...Alright, I'll go get that." The barman gives my new friend - Hanzo - a worried eye, but scurries off.

"I think we got him all excited," I admit sheepishly.

He looks to me, brow furrowed, lips pouting in confusion.

I nod to the barman. "He's like us. Judgin' by the ring, happily married, but..." I shrug. "Like us."

His face seems to fall. He looks haunted.

I sigh. "You ain't done this before, have you?"

His eyes beg. But his mouth says nothing.

I nod, fingers tapping on the table. "I'm being awful forward. I'm sorry." I go to get up, and I see a storm raging in his eyes. But he doesn't have the words to stop me.

 _It's just as well_ , I say to myself. _The arm is awful hard to explain to civilians_. I go to the bar, and the barman's heart looks broken. He hands me my drink. I thank him, and I down it. He eyes me, sideways.

"I'm closin' my tab," I say. I tuck my hat low over my eyes.

"No good?" he asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

I work my jaw. "...They usually don't take the drinks. I don't know know what to do anymore if they do."

I look up at the glass, and I see my face. I look old. And weary. There's a heartbreak in my eyes that rings clear as day. I look to him in the mirror, in enough time to see his hair whip away. His hands fret at the edges of his sleeves. I look away before he gets up the courage to watch me again.

"Are you doing cash or credit?" he asks.

"Cash." I reach for my wallet. "Pay for his, too."

The barman's eyes widen. "How generous."

I give him a sad, lopsided smile. "Not his fault." He rings up the total, and I pay the tab, leaving a generous tip. It's way more than I was intending to spend tonight, but it feeds a piece of my empty heart to at least do that much.  
My feet sway slightly as I walk, but it's not far to the hotel. I stop at his table on my way out, where he is nervous nibbling on a fry.

"Enjoy your dinner," I tell him, touching the tip of my hat again in a nod. "I hope you find someone wonderful one day."

I barely him him say, "Arigatou... gozaimasu," as I touch the door.

 _Yeah. Sure_ , I think to myself. _Thanks for nothin'_.

At least it's not raining when I get outside. Or if it is, it's a light drizzle I can pretend isn't there. I cross my arms and hold myself close, trying to fend off the cold that right now is bleeding into my bones. I count three closed coffee shops, and find my hotel. Lena greets me from the lobby, and I give her a half-hearted wave. I'm at the elevator, waiting for it to come down, when she blinks next to me.

"Oi!" Her face is drawn in concern. "You alright?"

I give her a sad smile, and look down at my boots. "Ever buy a drink for a pretty girl, and realise she's never done that before?"

She snorted, hands on her hips. "A girl turned ya down?"

"No," I answered. "I was askin' _you_."

That confused her enough for me to get in the elevator and start to close the door.

"Now hold on a tick..."

"Night, Lena."

"Jesse, I'm confused. Did you mean a girl, or...?"

"Good _night_ , Lena..."

She laughed and playfully cursed at me as the door shut. I take off my hat and crick my neck. Lena might get it. Even if she didn't right away. Or she might think I was just pullin' her leg, because I'm the kind of guy to do that sort of thing. I sigh, putting my hat back on, tucking it over my eyes.

That was the damnedest thing about swingin' both ways. It meant anybody could tell you 'no'.

**Author's Note:**

> That ending: Brad gets it... Janet gets it... Dr. Scott gets it...
> 
> Cos Lena is gay, yeah? She gets it. If she gets it.
> 
> THAT'LL MAKE THE MEET UP TOMORROW A LITTLE MORE AWKWARD. But hey, McHanzo head starts are ADORBZ. And I love literary foreshadowing/irony like, a lot. And by 'crazy random happenstance' I mean 'not random at all' in the Dr. Horrible sense.
> 
> Special MVP to the random as hell gay bartender. I seriously didn't know he was gay until Jesse sent over the drink, and then OMG. Have you ever had a guy who is lowkey under the radar until someone else pops up and then they light up like a fucking Christmas tree? It's fucking HILARIOUS. I know a couple of guys like that. Special love to Mikey, my favourite little bi baby druid who gives me all the lusty, coy flirty boy tips. He is my muse forever.
> 
> Ah, what else... OH. So, Silver City is a real place. Jesse told me he lived 'in the middle of fucking nowhere, halfway between X and Tucson' because he knows I'm in Tucson. I tried Santa Fe and Albequerque and checked what was between them and still on the NM side, and he pointed it out to me. AND SERIOUSLY, Kokopelli is fucking EVERYWHERE, and people don't even realise he's a thing. It's bizarre.
> 
> AND JESSE WORKS FOR THE MILITARY, SCREW YOU, MILITARY TIME. It's not High Noon all the time.
> 
> /just a tetch defensive because oh god "Rodeo" got ripped apart this weekend.


End file.
